Zorro and his son
by TFALokiwriter
Summary: A truth revealed and basking in the truth of the de la Vega secret. Zorro 1957 version, future fic, alternate universe.


It had been more then sixteen years since Diego's time as Zorro had come to a end with the tyrant Captain Enrique Sánchez Monasterio and the head of the eagle agency José Sebastián de Vargas. The peace that he had once known the pueblo for in his childhood had returned with peons, vaquero, and rancheros with certain ease with trouble only abounding not as often. The peace gave in for much needed regained rest and Zorro scaled back his activities in Los Angeles. In the end, it was time to lay down the saber and hat for the retirement of the fox.

And for Don Diego de la Vega to come forward and lay claim to what he deserved the most for saving Los Angeles. Alejandro welcomed the pattering of feet within the household. The glee on his father's face to hold his first grandson was immeasurable after Diego had held him. The words _"I am proud of you, my son"_ were words that had became familiar to hear once more from his father after stepping out of the shadows and establishing a lifestyle in the daylight. He heard it enough that it no longer sounded strange to hear it after marrying Anna Maria Verdugo. Sixteen years he got to watch his children grow before his eyes among their games alongside his wife in pride.

He rode Tornado not as often as he used, not on a daily basis, the words 'Zorro has retired' rang hollow for the truth. Zorro only rode a couple times a month or months depending on the situation at home at night for a few hours. Slipping into Zorro's uniform and finding unexpected trouble on those nights felt right and fitting for him. Nights of less sounds of children wailing and more sounds of the wind, the feel of the air, and the silence in the night being disturbed by grunting and sabers clashing. Diego could not imagine doing it forever. And it was the truth. Even the truth of Tornado being bred.

"Father,"

Diego lowered his hand from the guitar string.

"Yes, Martin?"

Martin awkwardly approached his father then sat down alongside him outside of the hacienda.

"What is El Zorro?" Martin asked.

Diego put aside the guitar as he leaned up against the chair with a easy going demeanor.

"A very talented man," Diego said.

"Is he a God?" Martin asked.

"No," Diego said. "A man just there when he needs. . . or needed to be."

"Don Carlos Fernandez told me Zorro once strung him up over a mountain man," Martin said.

"Don Carlos exaggerates," Diego said. "As he does with fiction. It never happened. You should stop listening to his tales. He is a old man and his words are relishing a time that never happened."

"The way he talks about El Zorro," Martin chuckled. "he may as well have been a deity."

"Martin, why have you been listening to Don Carlos Fernandez?" Diego asked, raising a brow. "This is very concerning."

Martin relented, playing with his fingers, then took a glass of lemonade and sipped from it.

"This masked outlaw. . . I saw him myself a few days ago. My amigos and I were riding our horses through the quarry when bandits chased after us and ran sacked us for our pesos! I was ashamed," Martin lowered his head. "Not able to defend my fellow amigos. Not having the courage to stand up for myself. Zorro had to come to my rescue and returned our pesos."

Bernardo put down tray of lemonade and snacks placing it on to the table then Diego looked up toward his equally as aged friend then nodded. Diego's attention lowered on to the young man who's hands were set in his lap as was his gaze with slumped shoulders.

"Martin de la Vega," Diego put a hand on the young boy's shoulder. "I am always proud of you."

"Even with my sculpting?" Martin weakly lifted his head.

"That is what I am the most proud of," Diego said. "A lover of the arts. Not of violence."

"Violence is for wimps," Martin said. "I have little drive for protecting the family's honor with that."

"I-What I liked the most about what you did was tying their horses together," Martin raised his head up in surprise. Diego took a sip of the lemonade once taking his hand off his son's shoulder. "You did most of the heavy work there." He took off the sandwich off the tray including the plate with it and the napkin putting it on to his lap. "If you hadn't tied their horses together, the chase would have gone on far differently than how it did."

"Zorro!" Martin said.

"A hobby of mine," Diego grinned then winked back.

"Is it true about what they say?" Martin asked. "That you destroyed a cannon with gun powder at a Blacksmith's shop?"

"That part is true," Diego said. "With Bernardo's help."

"Father. . ." Martin said then took a double take at Bernardo as he took off the second sandwich from the tray.

"He was part of it," Diego said, as Bernardo nodded with a smile.

"What about grandfather?" Martin asked.

"He had no clue," Diego said.

"Does the comandanta know?" Martin asked.

"Never hurt him," Diego said. "I got to be there, proudly, when they made finally promoted Garcia. Los Angeles held its breath, waiting, for the assassination but it never came. Partially because Garcia and I kept walking into them but the comandante was so oblivious to it."

"Sounds just like him," Martin said between his laughter.

"He is a idiot but a well intention one," Diego said. "Didn't even know he convinced the people trying to kill him to stop on their own accord without Zorro's help. Before, we kept going through so many comandante's that the king of Spain just about gave up and made it clear that Sergeant Garcia become the new comandante. He was tired of sending new comandante's to be unmasked as conspirators or worse. _Killed_ by El Zorro."

"Does mother and my sisters know?" Martin asked.

"I want to keep it that way," Diego said.

"Father, father," Martin reached his had out grabbing on to his father's forearm. "Is being El Zorro a family tradition?"

"As I said, hobby," Diego held his hand up. "Once in a generation. Not often does someone protect the people and devote their lives to it," he winced. "No," he then corrected himself. "Devote_ some_ sleepless nights to it."

"How often do you go out at night?"

"Some nights when the family is sick and I have to get a fresh breath of air that turns quickly into a night of riding,"

"Is that where you were doing last week when my sisters were sick?"

"Si,"

"How was it?"

"Asides to being a little sore," He took another sip from his glass then flashed a big grin toward Martin quite cheerfully. "refreshing!"

Martin took a long sip of lemonade then put it on to the table and threw his hands into the air.

"I am the unluckiest de la Vega in Los Angeles." Martin's arms crashed on the arm rest.

"Zorro is in everyone, my son," Diego shook his head. "He is not just me." he looked off. "That is the funny thing about him. People can easily be him and pretend to be him if they act in the people's interest. People picked up where I left off."

"Si, father."

"The unluckiest de la Vega who steps foot in Los Angeles is, on the other hand, your gold seeking uncle and that man's story with some parts not told. If Don Carlos Farnandez has spoken about it,"

"What uncle? What rich seeking uncle? Who are you talking about?"

"Ah. . . " Diego tapped on the arm rest of the chair biting back his tongue. As if he had walked into a trap that he couldn't get out of. "He knows."

"And?"

"Uncle Estaban de la Cruz doesn't like to be laughed at when he says I am Zorro to the people,"

"You're not really a klutz!"

"Si,"

"What else is a lie?" His brows furrowed. "You can't play a flute?"

"That," Diego took a bite out of the sandwich then chewed and smiled toward his son. "I can do."

"So you're okay with all those swordsmen running around pretending to be you?" Martin tilted his head.

"Si," Diego said. "Though, I don't know who are the people pretending to be Zorro. It is better off that way. I suspect I may know them. Many of them have black horses. Black as Tornado's offspring that I sell for thousands of pesos."

"Si," Martin agreed with a nod. "It is."

It was a short moment of silence as they ate.

"Martin, would you like to watch a bunch of lancers get stuck in a tar pit and get out?"

Martin looked at his father, his eyes big, in shock.

"You are a real devil, father!" Martin said.

Diego looked aside then shrugged turning his attention on the young man.

"Well. . ." Diego said. "Do you?"

His son paused for a long moment puckering his lips thinking it over.

"Yes," Martin said. "But tar pits are supposed to be dangerous."

Diego grinned in response to his son's remark.

"I will wake you up tonight," Diego said. "It will be just like old times with Garcia." He grinned at the talk of it. It had been a long time since he had lead the comandante away with his lancers through the greenery away from Los Angeles and what not. "And I know just the right tar pit. . . That is unlike most tar pits relatively easy to get out of."

**The End. **


End file.
